Page 5 of Enzo's Vow
This was it. Gemma: the reset button.
Fifteen years of silent dinners, of tiptoeing around Carina’s moods, all leading here. I imagined my mother’s face without those harsh brackets around her mouth. They tightened each time she looked at my father’s picture. Her laughter still echoed in the memories of my childhood, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, the small dimple in her cheek when she chased me around the garden, pretending to be a monster. A recording from another lifetime, before my father’s late nights at the office stopped being a convincing excuse. Before the whispers of lipstick-stained collars became the talk of the staff. Before our family home turned into a mausoleum. Gemma had to be the way to resurrect that sound.
My phone buzzed, and I fished the device out of my pocket.
“Signore Campbell is on his way to the hotel.”
“Grazie.” Wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear, I fixed my tie. “I’ll be there soon.” Ending the call, I shot Lucio aquick text, then scrolled through my cell to the image—a picture to end this sham betrothal.
I spared the woman in my bed a final glance. A strange tightness gripped my chest, a cold counterpoint to the heat of my anticipation. Throbbing desire pulsed through my veins, softening the roar of the plan at the edges. I bit the inside of my cheek. Cold purpose slammed back into focus. Desire or not, duty came first. Her unguardedness in sleep struck me with her obvious vulnerability in this situation.
Last night, she’d been so shy and skittish in my presence, but a flame ignited in her depths. The way she lost herself in my eyes, the slight hitch in her breath, whispered her desire. Gemma Galo was interested, despite hiding her attraction behind the cheap veil on her head. It wouldn’t take much at all to see our plan to fruition. Which meant she wouldn’t be here for long. Tension coiled my gut. Either way, we might as well enjoy each other’s company on this hellish ride.
I locked the bedroom door, the click echoing in the sudden silence, and beckoned over the two guards waiting in the hallway. “Non si muova. Capito?Do not let her out under any circumstances.”
They nodded in unison, their obedience a small shield against the irrational impulse to stay. I strode through the cool, shadowed villa, the tap of my shoes sharp against the marble floor. Stepping outside, the Sicilian sun blazed, the heat radiating off the stucco walls. I removed my shades from my jacket pocket, shielding my eyes from the blinding light.
My car gleamed like a predator in the driveway. I settled into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. The well-tuned machine purred, a deep, resonant rumble vibrating through the contoured seat, a promise of the power beneath the hood. Zipping out of the villa, tires crunching on the gravel, I sped along the main road in the direction of the hotel. The bright,sunny day contrasted with the storm I was about to brew. I lowered the rooftop and allowed the wind to wash over me.
Passing the beach, several people lounged on the sand. Locals and tourists splashed in the waveless water, enjoying the Sicilian weather. How nice to be so carefree.
Images of Gemma—her unsure gaze regarding me when I’d helped steady her to her feet last night—flashed in my mind. To see that look again… I hit the accelerator harder, eager to get this over with and return home. The hotel came into view, its pale stone reflecting the azure of the sea beyond. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, a postcard-perfect scene ideal for any traveling tourist. Amidst all this grand beauty,shestayed glued to the forefront of my mind—how any minute now she’d wake up, alone, in my bed. This little charade with the fiancé was just a time-wasting detour. I’d deal with the pathetic sap, then get back to the real game.
Lucio’s name flashed across the polished dash screen. READY WHEN YOU ARE. I snickered—of course he’d added a salute emoji. My younger brother found this situation a little too amusing. People rolled their luggage through the large automatic doors, laughing and smiling, excited about their holiday stay. The valet hurried and fetched my keys.
Inside the lobby, Mr. Campbell paced, phone to his ear as his family checked in.
“Still can’t reach her, son?” An older version of the young man slapped Mr. Campbell’s shoulder.
Typical tourists in their flip-flops and casual floral shirts, ready to enjoy their destination wedding holiday. And here I stood, the storm cloud gathering on their horizon.
“No.” He tweaked his nose. “It’s not like her to ignore my calls. I left her several messages.”
“You mentioned her friends took her out for a bachelorette dinner?” The father brushed aside his son’s concerns. “What’s the bet they’re exhausted after a big night?”
Big night indeed. The restaurant verged on closing when they blacked out.
“Gemma? A big night?” Matthew cocked a brow. “I don’t think so, Dad.”
What, no late nights out with his fiancée? A spin on the dance floor, or a few drinks at a bar? I’d done Gemma Galo a favor by preventing her marriage to this bore.
Campbell Senior’s brows knit together. “Let’s kick back in our suites. You can try again in an hour.”
Matthew gestured to the elevators. “You guys go on. I’ll hang here in case she turns up.”
I replied to Lucio, telling him to go ahead in five minutes. His parents—and what I assumed were his siblings—wheeled their bags away, leaving a young Matthew alone in the foyer. Young indeed. Similar in age to Miss Galo, if I had to take a guess. He had his entire life to live… but not with Gemma.
“Matthew Campbell.” I used my boardroom tone, exuding authority. “Gemma mentioned you’d be here.”
The man puffed out a relieved breath, his posture slumped as though a ten-pound weight vanished from his shoulders. “Oh, thank God. Where is she? I haven’t been able to reach her all morning.”
I tsked and scratched at my temple. “She hoped you received her email by now.”
The young man grimaced. “An email?” He dug into his pocket for his phone.
I rolled my eyes, weary of our exchange. “She refused to speak with you in person.”
“Who are you?” He jutted his jaw, his gaze assessing.
